Chaos of Worship
by Joermungandr
Summary: Jarvis's firewall got breached by SHIELD, Loki is in Asgard, and Tony? Tony has to deal with the fallout, while he is in pain and he can't even find out why! This is a sequel to Worship of Chaos (ID: 9689414 )
1. Pain & Betrayal

Hi again!  
First of all, **thank you all so much for for all the hits, kudos, bookmarks and lovely comments!**  
I present you the first chapter of "Chaos of Worship"! Here a few warnings with minor spoilers:  
Plenty of pain, betrayal and issues for Tony, Loki isn't even conscious for this chap due to off-screen but implied torture , and Pepper, well, Pepper picks the wrong things to be afraid of, and Tony juggles with all the problems like a pro! Jarvis and 'the babies' are Tony's everything, and he'd do anything to protect them. I do not know yet how long this is going to get, since I took a completely different direction than I planned before, but I'll do my best not to leave too much time between the chapters, or any extreme cliffhangers.  
Have fun reading! -BiD

* * *

It was a few days after Loki, interesting, chaotic Loki had been escorted back to Asgard, when it started.  
Pain.  
In the beginning it was barely there, a tingle under his skin or a slight ache in his muscles, barely distinguishable between all the other bruises and fractures from the Chitauri fight, and didn't pay it much heed.  
After three weeks he realised that, no, it wasn't from their fight, it was something else, but an analysis revealed that his body was as alright as it ever was.

Jarvis's outer firewalls have been breached.  
The AI had of course smacked them out of his net like the flies they were, frying their equipment while doing so and pinpointed their location. It took them all but a moment to realise that it was the Helicarrier. SHIELD had tried to hack _his_ Jarvis.  
A bare minute later he had Fury on the phone, asking, to his own surprise, rather calmly, "What the fuck was that supposed to be?"  
The answer of "Your sentient creations are too dangerous to be left with a civilian, Stark." was the wrong one.  
They spent days writing new Firewalls for Jarvis, DUM-E and all his other babies, perfect walls of code that would protect was is his from any harm of the non physical kind.

The first night that Tony woke up, he thought that it was from a nightmare, but the pain lasted, his skin burning, blood boiling, his body oddly cold.  
No scans he and Jarvis made brought any clarity in the matter, after an hour the pain got tolerable, after almost two days it vanished completely.

Their search on who had spilled Jarvis's sentience went sluggish, and between waves of agony, blissed not-pain, Iron man and his duties for SI, he detached himself from SHIELD as much as at all possible, cutting the funds, deleting any information they had on him from their systems, and throughoutly explained to Fury what would happen if they tried to touch anything that's him or his again.

By now he was almost used to the lasting, and randomly appearing pain in his body, except when he wasn't and it being bad enough for him to double over.  
Pain medication didn't do a thing about it, not even something like Morphine, he knew, he'd tried, and it was only a matter of time till one of the worse waves would hit while around people. Thankfully, by now it had only happened in the secrecy of his workshop or bedroom.

Tony accidentally tripped over a video file that showed Pepper and 'not-dead-after-all-Phil' talking, and he just wanted to click it away when he hear her say "You need to do something about JARVIS, Phil, it scares me." "We will, Pepper, don't worry about it."  
The sound of their voices hung in the sudden silence of the workshop, and no, this wasn't possible.  
"J." he murmured, feeling his blood drain from his face, and clung to the phantom burn of his bones, feeling like he was about to fall apart.  
Jarvis though, usually the definition of 'proper language' just gave a few blips.  
Blips.  
He hadn't used blips in ages; they were from his learning days, when he did not know what word to use, or how to express himself.

Pepper!  
Tony's brain whited out, blue-screen, stopped, and he felt, he felt, he didn't know what he felt, he just jumped to his feet and ran up the stairs, to his penthouse.  
She would be there, she would be there and she'd tell him that this was a misunderstanding, and this, this couldn't be real!  
He slammed open the wall panel that had the stairs hidden from the pent house, and called out her name.  
His heart raced, and he followed her voice in to the kitchen.  
"Tony! What happened? You're white as a sheet! And I told you no Armour in the pent-house!"  
Confused he looked down at himself, and yes, he still wore the left gauntlet with which's sensibility he had toyed while watching the video sequence.  
The video.

He felt himself sway, as the burning sensation spread, and flinched when Pepper tried to help him.

"Why did you tell Coulson about Jarvis." he demanded, praying that there was some logical explanation, but her face changed, and he saw, horrified that she knew exactly what he was talking about, and -  
"It is dangerous Tony, it controls the Tower, and the Suit, the satellites, weapons, information, everything, and you don't even have a way to stop it if it get's out of control, do you even still have control?"  
_Oh god_ did it hurt. It hurt and it took him a moment to realise that, no, it _didn't_, it was the sudden absence of pain that made his skin oversensitive.  
And for a moment his mind was too stuck in that shocked numbness, but then, then he felt himself cracking, drowning, burning and _oh god_ why was it always the people he though he could trust?!  
Why, _why_, **why ?!**

Tony couldn't think.  
He couldn't think, and he couldn't speak, couldn't breathe and he felt like he was drowning all over, in that tub in Afghanistan, at the brink of death just not to die after all, and he honestly wasn't sure if he'd make it this time. If he even wanted to.  
"Miss Potts," Jarvis spoke, "Sir wishes you to leave." His voice, usually filled with dry humour or exasperation was entirely, terrifyingly free of those emotions he had developed. He sounded like an apparatus. _Siri._ it flashed through Starks mind.  
Pepper bristled, "You can't speak on Tony's behalf, you are a machine." she stepped towards the inventor, voice softening and trying to reach him, "Tony-"  
but with his name, the man snapped straight, looking at her with what she would recognise as his serious-business-mask, just that this one didn't even remotely look like a mask.  
"Jarvis is, will, and has been speaking on my behalf for many times. Miss Potts, you are here by dismissed from you position as CEO from Stark Industries, you are to leave the premises of the Tower at this instant, any belongings will be sent to an address you are to provide. SI is willed to pay you 70% of your wages, despite the leak of confidential information you have caused, if you do not cause any further disturbances, until you found a new working position. Good Day Miss Potts."  
Peppers jaw dropped, "Tony! You _have to_ see _reason_! I am just trying to protect you! This is-" her voice faltered as she saw Tony raising his left hand, the one with the gauntlet, rising, palm pointed at her.  
"Miss Potts, please don't make me ask twice." Tony's voice was cool, much colder than he himself felt, his body numb, too pain free, too loose, much more detached and, god he hated doing this, he hated threatening her and he really didn't want to point the Repulsor at her, but oh how he _wanted_.  
How he wanted to destroy her, flay her, rip her apart for _betraying_ him like this!

But she left, lips pressed to a thin line she pulled her coat over her business costume, picked up her bag and left through the 'official' lift.

It took almost a week for the foreign phantom pain to return, but when it came back he welcomed it.  
All week he had felt like he had lost a limb, too light, to frail and fragile, as if he'd just drift apart when not watching out.  
He lost himself in the work. After firing Pep- Potts, he had to take care of SI himself, and while, yes, it was a shitload of work, he did it anyway, if only to blend out the emptiness he felt, to keep himself from drinking till he'd enter a stupor, and without whom would he have never been able to do it?  
Jarvis.  
Jarvis, who had scheduled him everything, gave him suggestions and even took care of some matters of his own, always checking back with Tony that it was correct and right.

It was Sunday morning when he dropped into his favourite chair in the workshop for the first time all week, that he realised the dull ache in his body, the pain that wasn't his and mentally he latched onto it and pulled, until it was a strong burning sensation, and he wrapped it around himself like a cocoon, trying not to break, and suddenly felt relief.  
It wasn't his relief, he realised after a moment, it was the same as the pain, foreign, not his or him, and fuck.  
What was that anyway?!  
For a moment he allowed himself to think of Loki, clever broken chaotic Loki, and wondered if it was him, if this 'worship' connection could go both ways, but it was impossible to get answers to that without having the god there to ask, and decided not to worry about it for now.

Instead he thought about the new office building he had bought, and the SI employees he had transferred there, all of them. He couldn't stand the Idea of someone else in his tower, and was really glad for a moment that the other Avengers hadn't taken his offer to come back to the Tower.  
The Assassins were still with Shield, just as Cap, Thor was in Asgard, and Bruce had decided to go back to India, he had missed the place, being useful in a not-hulk way, and Tony didn't take it personal, he thought he might understand.

The press had taken the whole 'Stark man's up!' about being CEO surprisingly well, and after only a few weeks he was titled the 'most relentless CEO SI has ever had' and the stock rose, since this time he really didn't shit around about it, sticking to plans, schedules and 'reforming' board member's opinions to his liking with his silver tongue.

It was three months after Loki's transport to Asgard, that he was in his workshop, working on a huge improvement of the Repulsor, his skin oversensitive from the last, truly extreme wave of pain, when Jarvis announces four Asgardians and Loki on the roof.  
The suit wrapped around Tony before he could even finish saying 'Armour', and a mere moment later he found himself hovering over his very own towers roof.  
And yes, there were four, quite obvious, Asgardians he didn't know, muttering about 'how to enter these halls' and a body lying between them, in thick chains and bleeding, unconscious as it seemed, dressed in rags, long black hair whipping in the wind, and _oh fuck_ that was Loki!

"Hello, can I help?" he called through the speaker system of the suit, and landed on his roof with a good distance, the four turned around to face him.  
"We have no matter with you, construct" Ass one called out, "but go and tell your master that we are to deliver this to Lord Stark."  
Tony narrowed his eyes, and retracted his helmet, _Lord_ Stark, eh? "You are speaking to Lord Stark, so watch your tongue."  
Very, very quickly the four's eyes widened and they fell to one knee, "We beg your forgiveness Lord Stark, the Allfather ordered us to deliver _this_," he gestured to the lump on the ground that was Loki, "to you, as compensation for the inconvenience it has caused you, my Lord."  
Tony tilted his head, as if he had to think about it, instead of just running over to Loki and help him.  
"His magic?" he asked, better get all the info he could.  
One of the Asgardians stood up, took a step over to Loki and raised a limp arm, "These silver bracelets make him unable to use it, and he can not take them off. It this present of the Allfather sufficient as compensation, my Lord?"

Tony gave it a fake moment of consideration again, "Sure, why not. Who knows that I have him? For how long? Any instructions on what to or not to do with him?"  
"Only the Allfather and us four, you may fare with him as you please, my Lord, and as long as it you deem proper, he only must not die."  
Then Tony nodded, "Ok, I can do that, this'll be great. You can, I guess, beam yourself back or something. Thanks to your Allfather."  
"Very well, Lord Stark. Good morrow." and all four of them grabbed an object and vanished in a flash of magic, leaving a wounded, bleeding Loki on the roof.

"Well, fuck." Tony hissed, "Jarvis, I need to have the rest of the day free, and only the absolute necessary next week, your call."  
"Of course, sir." Jarvis answered calmly, "I'll have the guest room ready."


	2. No son of Odin

Thor had taken him to Asgard, to stand trial for his crimes and to receive his 'rightful' punishment, and wasn't that just _great_.

They departed two days after his initial capture, for SHIELD felt the need to interrogate him, as did the Avengers and he had seen every single one of them for far longer then he cared.  
Loki only cared about _one_, seeing _one_ person, the man who was responsible for that incredible feeling that was still flowing through his body.  
The rich black silver clinging to his bones, and ask him _„Why?"_ and _„How?"_.

Anthony Stark, the Man of Iron.  
But of course the one he wanted to talk to, the one he wanted to tear open and _see_, that had been the one which whom he only had moments in private, if at all really, the longest being a brief talk about what was going to happen, the merits of chaos, trading insults and Stark tending to the wounds SHIELD had inflicted on him in a pitiful attempt of interrogation.  
Or revenge.  
Probably revenge.

The light banter between them had been irrationally soothing, and the man's touch on his skin electrifying as it sent even more liquid sparks of the heady silver aura over his skin.  
Then Thor came, telling him that everything was prepared for their departure and taken him away.

As he stood before his bro- Thor in chains and muzzled like an animal, sharp metal spikes boring into his tongue, holding it still, he didn't look at anyone, didn't want to see the hatred or, the nine forbid, pity.  
So instead he just grabbed the other end of the contraption Thor held towards him, feeling Odin's disgustingly bright golden magic and the Tesseract in the middle, and twisted it's handle as expected of him.

Loki remembered his last travel with the space-gem, stepping from his torturers chamber into the SHIELD facility in the blink of an eye, but this time it felt different.  
Different, as in that instead of opening a neat little door, Odin's magic bound them to the object for a short time and they got pulled. Pulled through emptiness and darkness.  
_The Void_.  
And for a moment, a minute, ages, eons he was lost again, falling instead of being pulled and remembered the ember of worship flickering out, panic clutching at his mind- -  
And then he was in Asgard.  
Falling to one knee, Loki tried to gasp for air that his muzzle didn't allow him, feeling faint and jittery.  
If it hadn't been for Anthony, the black, silver liquid caging his bones and his body and his mind, he'd probably have lost himself in the greedy emptiness of The Void, and by the gods he hoped that he'd never again have to feel that.  
For onlookers eyes it was all but moments till he had gathered himself again, but internally he was still reeling and failed to react as the guards hurriedly clasped shackles around his feet and neck, connection them with a chain, around his hips for leverage, then practically dragging him to the dungeons.  
He knew how to walk, thank you very much!

It was, what he assumed, the second day, when guards came to guide him to the great throne room, this time thankfully without any dragging.

So here he stood, still muzzled, bound and unable to defend himself, in front of the Allfather's wretched golden throne, to his far left and right the counsel, at his immediate side - Thor.  
Thor, the only one possibly willing to speak in his defence, had been traitorously silent up until now, and stayed it, just until the council voiced his opinion to sentence him twice.  
Once in the dungeons, for his wrongings against Asgard.  
Once under command of a mortal, for his wrongings against Midgard and - _What?!_  
His bro- Thor, stayed silent, even when they discussed the duration of his stay in the dungeons (they didn't come to a conclusion), and for all Thor looked like he wanted to speak, no, to smash, stir and pulverise them with his damned hammer, he only spoke once the decision of which mortal he was to serve came up.

"Father, I recommend my Shield-brother Anthony of Stark, the Man of Iron." the prince spoke, and Loki did his very best not to react to the name. _What was the oaf doing?!_ Odin though was silent for a moment.

"And why would that be, Thor?"

"The portal that Loki opened was located on Anthony's Tower, the centre of his empire, using his power source, and he suffered considerable damage. He was the one to destroy the Chitauri's army with a single weapon that he flew through the portal himself."

"And you deem this your reason to recommend that mortal?"

"No." Thor answered, and Loki could see the surprise in Odin's face, could feel his own surprise as well.

"Anthony, Son of Stark is smart, father. Impressively so. He easily unravelled and exposed Loki's plans, reasons and intentions, how I have never seen _anyone_ do it. I believe that he is the only mortal you could hand Loki to, who has the resources to keep him in check, and the wit not to be manipulated."

The Allfather looked thoughtful, and Loki, internally, wanted to hug that stupid hammer swinging oaf, and congratulate him for finally using that skull of his for other things than head butting.  
_If_ this worked, he owed him one for that, truly.

"Has Loki done him any other personal offence?"

"Aside from using the monument that carries Anthony's very name on it? Loki threw him out of a window."  
The Allfather raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and Loki felt the sudden, desperate urge to face palm.

"From a height that equals the top of the palace. A deadly drop, not only for mortals." _Better._

"Oh." Odin only said, looked thoughtful and after a moment stood up, "The trial hereby ends. In the morrow I will personally inform Loki of his sentence. Take him back to the cell."  
He got taken away, back to the small cubicle that had held him before, surrounded by glass walls and not even a chair in it.  
So all he could do was sit on the floor and wait.  
Without thought he brushed the silver near his ribs with magic, enjoying the calming warmth it gave off when doing it, then finally letting sleep wash over him after a while.

What he assumed was the next morning Odin and two guards stepped in front of the glass wall of his cell.  
"Loki Laufeyson. " the Allfather spoke, and Loki felt biting cold terror in the pit of his stomach for that name alone, "You will be held in Asgard's dungeons for a time not yet decided and be reprimanded for your crimes against Asgard. Following that you will be handed over to Midgard, to pay for your crimes against those."  
Odin lifted a hand and focused entirely on him, and Loki could feel it, feel Odin's horrid golden magic clawing over his too tight skin.

"I hereby relieve you of my name, of your title as Prince, of your right to reside in Asgard aside from your punishment, and-" Loki suddenly felt heat burn on his skin, "I hereby relieve you of the false Aesir skin which I had gifted to you so long ago, for you have forsaken it."

Loki's mind stuttered to a complete stop.  
"What?!" He gasped, "No, NO! You can't do that, Odin! You can't-" slamming a fist against the, of course, _golden_ magically reinforced glass, he saw it.  
The blue of his skin, something between cerulean and lapis lazuli, the ridges on it, the - _Oh by the_ -  
Suddenly pain exploded in his head and he pressed his cold hands (_not cold enough!_) against his temples and bumped into a - a -

Horn.  
A horn, there were _horns_ growing out of his skull and _by the nine why was it so hot?!_

Loki felt how panic and horror made the adrenalin flooding through his body which in turn made the temperature around him blissfully drop, and there was ice blooming on the glass in front of him, and -

"Raise the temperature of the cell until he passes out, then take him to the dungeons and do what you must." Odin spoke, barely audible over the screaming of blood in Loki's suddenly very sensitive ears, seeing the man he once called father turning around and - it was too bright.

Everything, everything was flooded in light, too bright, _too_ bright, _too_ hot, _too_ small, too _loud_ and it _hurt_.  
It _hurt_ and _burnt_ and _roared_ -

And then?

Then there was darkness.


	3. Cyan Razorblades

He heard the screams first.

High pitched screams of begging for forgiveness, of pleading and praying  
and deep roars of defiance, of fight, of caged animals and monsters that had their teeth pulled, claws mutilated, bound, breaking, broken.

Then he realised it had been his own raw throat that made those sounds as he woke up out of another illusion.  
Numbly Loki recalled that one of his 'caretakers' had a particularly nasty spell, which could give you the belief of surviving years in torturous captivity, when it was only minutes. And he had seen many, many of those false years, and it would be so easy to pull the illusion apart if he could only reach a strand of him seidr, but it was locked away.  
Locked away with a thousand nets and locks and chests, doors, moats, gateways and failsafe and silver bracelets, so that even he couldn't make his way to it.

Loki tried to draw a deep breath, choked (again) on his saliva (or was it blood? Probably blood.) then tried to cough it out, but coughing without breath doesn't quite work and it hurt.  
Everything hurt with dull throbbing, sharp stinging or burning and it was hot, so unbearably hot! He couldn't even think of a single time he had felt this hot, not even in the dwarves forge had his skin burnt like this.

So he tried to lock the feeling out.  
Just lock out the pain and the heat and retreated to the back of his mind, to the cool black and silver shimmer at his neck, in his bones and wrapped himself around it, and he felt the sharp pain dull down to a bearable ache.  
He just drifted for a while, slowly unwinding without the edge of it grinding on his mind-

Suddenly he found himself screaming again as someone dumped a bucket of boiling water over his head, ripping him out of the stasis and accidentally, somehow pulling the worship to the front of his psyche, presenting it to the wave of pain and found himself surprised.

It absorbed it.

Not all of it, obviously, but the pain lessened remarkably as the worship took it in like a sponge, and again, only left a dull ache behind.  
It made him able to think clearly for the first time in -  
well, he assumed it had actually been only a few days, but to his mind it had been years since he could just properly _think_.

But he honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to.  
Thinking meant remembering.  
Remembering what had happened, and remembering what colour his skin had.  
It wasn't as if he could see it, strapped to a table as he was, but the knowledge alone made him want to crawl out of it, out of his own skin, made him almost, _almost_ welcome the unbearable heat that threatened to make his head swim again.

After some (what he assumed) weeks (or millennia, he wouldn't know, really) he learned how to use the quicksilver worship, how to cast himself around it to loose the edge of the pain at any time, or how to wrap it around himself, using it as a shield, as a blanket that made him unreachable for anything outside his mind, even the pain, to let his thoughts go adrift within the blackness, and if his mind had lungs he'd sight, but of course it hasn't.  
This way he stayed most of the time.  
He doesn't know if his body is still breathing.  
Does he even have a body?  
What was it like?  
Wasn't it, ah, yes, blue, it was blue, and cold. Colder than it should be but not cold enough and he felt all the things wrong with it, but he really didn't care.  
Care, like the black liquid caressing his mind.  
Silver.  
Black.  
Silver-black quicksilver, and oh how he adored it.

He really did.

Until the day it turned to cyan razorblades and barbed wire.  
It lashed out, tore at him, his own shield almost slicing him apart until he fled back to the confinement of his screaming body, appalled by the sudden, unreasonable attack.  
He remembered the last time it had burnt on his skin, burnt like balefire in the Void but not _burning_ him.  
This time though?

This time it was different.

This time it slashed anything that came to near, anything being him, froze in his bones so cold it burnt worse than anything that had been done to him, and all he could do was stare at that thing that used to be sleek black silver worship.  
Loki saw it freeze, then it flared back alive, burnt, boiled, tossed spat and warped, an olive aquamarine abomination of betrayal was it now.  
And even though he should feel betrayal himself, should scream (maybe he did) from the pain and rip it out of his marrow, all he wanted to do was hold it.  
Hold it, and find Stark, his Anthony, his genius, find him and be his weapon to point at whomever was the cause for this.

Now though he could do nothing but flee from it, by waking up properly for the first time in a long time to a trashing body, heart racing and wait for it to stop from tearing him apart.  
At the same time he realised that this was the first time in a long time that he thought this clearly.

Loki's torturers gladly took him back in and told him everything they had done to him while he had been... absent.  
They told him how his body had writhed and screamed from the pain, and that they actually had hoped to have broken him, empty eyes and all.  
"But then" they told him, "you suddenly stopped making a pip, started weeping like a babe and woke up. I wonder what happened in that Frost Giant head of yours."  
Loki didn't flinch as they called him that, reminded him of what he was, he didn't really.  
He did wait though, wait for the worship (and how was that worship? was that normal?) to calm down.  
In the meantime he endured their torture, which had gotten so much worse, now that they exactly knew what created the most excruciating pain imaginable.

After two days it had stopped cremating his bones from the inside and the muddy olive had left.

After four it stopped lashing out, and he wanted to wait for the _other_ colour to fade which looked too much like his (not his, never nerver never his) skin color for comfort.

Day seven forced his hand as he was on the brink of despair, of insanity, of shattering apart, so he carefully reached for it, lightly brushed along it's outlines, feeling the agonizing pain recede a little, but not enough, not even remotely enough.

Almost with panic Loki felt the quicksilver worship, with it's lingering razor edge of cyan, tear hooks into his mind and forcefully drag him under, wrapping itself around him aggressively, threateningly, and for a moment Loki was about to flee again (how pathetic) when he realised what it was after.

The pain.

Like some beast in a blood rush devouring layer after layer of agony, tearing it away from him until he felt raw and exposed but relieved.  
So, so relieved that he wanted to weep, mayhap he did, he wasn't sure.  
Then, slowly it started to cradle him again, like it used to, still combing through him, again and again on the search on any lingering ache (there were none) and for a moment he felt like the hatchling of a fierce, bloodthirsty but loving drakaina*.  
Just a moment after that thought he fell asleep of exhaustion, or unconscious, absentmindedly noting that his body still got cut open, that it still screamed but _he_ couldn't feel a thing even if he tried.  
Not that he did.

One time they woke him up, pulled him out of his little alcove in his mind by dumping his body in a tub of ice water and it was bliss.  
Pure glorious relief (if his mind wouldn't keep chanting _Frost~Giant Frost~Giant Frost~Giant_) for almost an hour.  
Then they came, pulled him out, back on the table and restrained him.

The next ten minutes were spent sowing his lips shut with a thick golden thread and a, what Loki recognised as a leather-needle, "so the mortal wouldn't have to bother with his foul lies" they said.

As quick as he could he sank back into the arms of worship, turning away from his body.

He couldn't take this anymore.

Loki remained like this for weeks.  
Within his little sphere that the silver-black (cyan edged) worship cut out for him and stayed well away from his body. He had had of enough pain, enough of the agony and the torture, it allowed him to stay, it kept the pain away and so he decided not to leave.

Sometimes he dreamed he was with Anthony in what he assumed to be Stark tower.

But it wasn't real.

He knew it wasn't.

For one his body didn't hurt, even though he walked around.  
His lips would part to eat, but of course those were still sown shut.  
The most obvious thing though was the way Anthony looked at him, worried, but not fearfully so, fascinated and wondering, as if he was the most beautiful thing the mortal (no, The Not-Mortal) had ever seen.  
Which was simply (cruelly) ridiculous.

He was _blue_.  
Jötunn-blue with horns (did he even still have those or were they sown off?) on his head, he was a monster, a creature.  
There was nothing that could've shown the man anything else, his own magic in iron chains, and O- _His_ magic long gone, there was nothing that would spare Anthony the sight of his monstrous nature.

If Stark ever saw him he would know, and there would never be a thing like worship again.

Realising this now Loki really, really hoped Thor's pleas to send him to Anthony would fail.

None the less, those were the dreams he didn't want to wake from. Never.


	4. If Loki was a goat

Tony still couldn't believe that he had the fucking God of Chaos, whom he thought he'd never see again, lying half dead on his workshop table, received as express delivery from Asgard and all for him to take care of. Dummy had brought him the extensive first aid kit that Pep-  
that he had stashed under one of his worktables and...

"Ah, no Dummy, thanks, but I can't use the oil cloths on him. Bring me some clean ones. Go on." he called, while Jarvis quickly took off the armour and confirmed what his interplanetary courier had said:  
There was no detectable magic in Loki's body.

Just a moment later he was next to the table again and he knew he needed to do something, but where to start?! Every inch of Loki's body was covered in grime and a half dried, almost gel like, slimy substance all mixing with a thick blue ooze pouring out of most visible wounds and there were many of those.  
When Tony realised that the God's lips were sown shut he thought he was going to throw up.  
No, seriously, how sick was that?!  
Lie-smith or not!  
Also, the red he had seen earlier and assumed to be blood was some sharp smelling chemical, and most definitely _not_ blood.

"Sir," Jarvis called out, "You will have to clean him first before you can take care of the wounds. I have taken the liberty to draw the master bath, cold as I might add since his core temperature is a lot lower than his outer. Please do notice that Loki's physiology has changed since his last appearance."

"Yeah," Tony answered numbly, "right, let's do this, ok? J, take the MARK 42 or something and carry him up, I'll head in front of you and get things ready, uhm. Yeah, let's do it like that." and sprinted upstairs to grab some towels and the medical grade soap.

Carefully they had lowered Loki into the tub after removing the- the what ever the hell those were, rags or something.  
Rags, chains and fucking leather threads from his lips.  
And while Jarvis helped to stabilise the body, Tony used a flannel and the increasingly murky bath water to for a first wipe down, and it was then that he noticed after a bit of careful scrubbing, that Loki's skin was actually light blue.

What the hell?  
Yeah, right, not concentrating on that now, he had a god to clean up, blue or not.

They had to rinse the bathtub six times before the water stayed reasonably clear, except for blood that slowly trickled from far to many cuts, rashes and open burns, and he even washed out the gods mouth to make sure that all teeth were there (they were) and promptly cutting himself on those ridiculously sharp canines.

What had taken longest was actually the hair, drenched in dirt and the thick blue liquid, which he knew by now was blood, it had tangled and knotted itself to one bog bunch of a black mess.

Jarvis had pointed out that cutting it off would be a lot easier, which was how Tony ended up explaining to his AI that people usually are quite (literally) attached to it, and that cutting hair without permission is like cutting off a few unnecessary but pretty strands of his code, just to make his program run that little quicker.  
"Forgive me sir. I have express ordered a Conditioner which has exceptionally good recommendations for untangling hair. It will arrive in some hours."

Tony smiled and hefted the still lifeless body out of the tub, drenching himself some more and carried it into his bedroom to put him on the duvet.  
Carefully he dried Loki, disinfected open and irritated skin and had Jarvis walk him through sewing wounds, resetting joints and properly splinting an upper arm bone  
and then literally covered him in bandages, only leaving neck head, hips and hands free.  
Not to forget a pair of boxer shorts to keep the god decent.

With a sigh and just feeling a little sick Tony went to the head and took another look at the mess that were horns.

Yes, honest to god, horns, or at least one that was still whole and as long as Tony's lower arm.  
The other, the left one, had been broken off in the middle, leaving sharp splinters and thick clotted blue blood (hah, talk about royalty); thankfully Jarvis had told him while they were in the bathtub what they had to do.  
Or what you'd have to do if Loki was a goat, but that was close enough for Tony.  
So he clipped off the jagged edges, cleared it out, disinfected and applied some more blood stopper, wrapping it up neatly with gauze and then falling back onto the other half of the bed.

At least he knew now why he had had this horrible headache for days now, and that, yes, the pain actually came from Loki, since he had felt the burns, the pull on his lips and the pain of a broken bone long before the god had been dropped onto his roof. He had also felt how the pain slowly receded during the bath, now only leaving a dull burning, and throbbing sensation clinging to his skin.  
He wondered if the transport of the pain was that worship thing, or if Loki had put some spell on him and if that even worked when he was out of magic.

Whatever.

The past few hours (yes, it had taken hours) had been exhausting, and right now Tony couldn't even feel his hands from the cold which Loki needed.  
Adopted, huh? Sure was.  
"Anything else we can do, J?"  
"I'd recommend you to put Mr. Odinson under a fresh duvet with some ice-packs, and then get yourself warmed up and cleaning the workshop. You also missed lunch by two hours. Should I order some Burgers?"

Tony smiled. Jarvis knew that Loki's wounds, no, the quite obvious _cause_ of Loki's wounds had actually rattled his maker, and of course, what his comfort food was.

Over observant bastard.

"Sure, get some BK." he answered.  
Slipping off the bed again he looked at Loki and wondered, "What _is_ his core temperature?"  
"Four degree Celsius, sir. The order is placed and I am to remind you that Burger King usually does not deliver. But since you offered such a generous tip it is taken care of. The MARK 42 is in the Workshop, getting cleaned by DUM-E."  
"He's using the oil-cloth, isn't he?"  
"I _am_ supervising him."  
"Oh what would I do without you, J?" Tony sing-songed, dramatically throwing a hand on his chest and the other to his forehead.  
"You'd be dead, sir." Jarvis commented dryly, making Tony giggle as the inventor pulled out the duvet from under Loki while trying not to move him too much and throwing it onto the ground, then pulling a fresh one out from a case under the bed and gently placed it onto him.  
His next stop was the minibar for ice-packs, and a minute later a hot shower (ignoring his poor stained bathtub for which he'd have to pay the cleaning-lady extra, fresh clothes, two fingers of scotch, burgers and a significantly blood free worktable and another hour of browsing through his list of projects and then while actually sorting his mind, the doorbell rang.  
Again?

"The delivery to save Loki's hair, sir." the AI informed him, and, yes now Tony remembered what he had forgotten to do.  
Fix some godly hair.

So he quickly went to the door, received his bag from a quite disgruntled old lady and promptly (accidentally) slammed the door into her face.  
In no time and a scotch, Tony was back in his fridge- bedroom while a quick instruction from Jarvis told him what to do, and what not to do.  
Carefully he turned the god onto his side, wincing when his arm stung as Loki's got moved and watching out as not to scratch himself (again) on the point of the intact horn.  
Quickly he sprayed in the conditioner into the long black curls and while he waited for it to soak through (putting on a hoodie because _fuck_ it was cold) he answered some messages concerning Stark Industries, pointedly ignoring another unread e-mail that was from Pepper.  
_Miss Potts_, god damn it.

Untangling Loki's hair with a soft brush while sitting behind him listening to the mostly even breaths was almost meditative.  
Just pulling one strand after another, brushing them until it was all loose, putting it aside, repeat.  
So Tony let his mind drift.  
But really, he didn't want to think about his problems with SHIELD, or Pe- Potts' betrayal, SI, not even what he'd have for breakfast tomorrow or how he was going to manage a company, a number of enemies, being Iron Man, inventing things _and_ taking care of the Little (blue) Prince who fell from his star?

Not to forget the fact that brushing the last few strands of Loki's hair, no matter how much it needed it was entirely too domestic for Tony's taste, and that with putting him into his own bed showed a lot more trust than Tony had intended to invest on anyone (who wasn't Jarvis) ever again, besides this wor-

Tony's thoughts got abruptly cut off by the pain in his body wavering and hearing a sharp groan from the body in front of him.  
Slowly, carefully without disturbing the mattress Tony moved back, out of Loki's reach. Rounding the bed once he was off it, to face him.  
"Morning Princess, you with us?" he asked as he noticed that the blood red eyes were open, and man he hoped that they were supposed to be this colour.

At first there was no further reaction from Loki than lying there with his eyes open, breathing heavily.  
Then he blinked slowly and seemed to really look at Tony.  
"Stark?" Loki croaked and the inventor felt again the pain in his upper arm flare up as the god briefly leaned on it as he sat up.  
"The one and only, Little Prince. Welcome to casa Stark. How are we faring today?" he answered with a smirk, handing the god a bottle of water.  
To his surprise Loki was silent and still looked a bit dazed, though the god did accept the bottle and drank it in only a few gulps.  
"Oh I see." he said then and at the same time that Tony felt a slight tug on his mind, the god fell asleep.

It went on like this for almost a week.  
Loki would randomly wake up a few times a day, drink, eat and sometimes bathe.  
He'd wander around the penthouse or stare at the Manhattan skyline when Tony wasn't there but if he was he usually had the silent god more or less glued to his side.

What in general wasn't a problem, in fact Tony just might even have come to enjoy the way the god would stumble into his office and stand next to Tony's chair, side pressed against the mortals shoulder or flop down onto the leather sofa and sleep some more.  
The fact that at night, _if_ Tony went to sleep Loki always ended up on top of his duvet, instead of the guest room the god now occupied, was something he still had to get used to.

No what confused, no, really disturbed him was the way Loki was passive. It was as if everything the god did was out of habit, a muscle memory or base instinct but lacking the sharp awareness and intellect or an active mind.  
Something held the god back and Tony wanted to know what it was and how he could snap him out of it.  
Because there still was an active mind in it. Tony saw it in the way Loki seemed to loathe his body.  
How the god pointedly never looked at his skin or mirrors, kept scratching at the raised marks on his arms above the silver bracelets and never, ever brought a hand near his horns and therefore hair.  
What of course meant that Tony had to care for the black mane himself, but every time he would touch Loki the god looked at him as if Tony was some divine creature, as if Tony should be anything but fascinated by the unfamiliar physiology and damn he just wanted to make the god comfortable with himself, because no one should hate his own body so much that it is engraved onto a subconscious level.

He just really, really needed Loki to have all his faculties together (and tell him what the fuck had happened, why he was blue and how they were going to continue now).

If only so he wouldn't have to worry about a semi-sentient blue alien royalty wandering around his house when he had to return to his full schedule in three days.


	5. I'm real You're here You're awake

Tony's awareness got ripped out of a nightmare early in the night.  
For a moment he lied there, shivering and panting, still feeling desert heat and water in his lungs when he saw someone leaning over him and something cold touching his chest.

The inventor didn't even think when he grabbed whatever touched his chest and twisted it behind the attackers back, turning him and pressing him into the mattress and slamming his knee into the attacker's spine, barely able to feel the pain that shot up in his own one.  
It took Tony a long moment to realise that who he was holding down was cold and that the room and body's temperature dropped by the second until the inventors hands and knee burned with it.  
And that was when he realised: Loki.

_Fuck!_  
Quickly he let go and took two steps back and _fucking hell_ he couldn't feel his hands!  
But he could see Loki and the god was slowly sitting up, as if he was afraid to startle Tony while biting his lip so hard that it started to bleed.

"Lokes" Tony called out, "Loki you ok?"  
What the fuck?  
Why should Loki be ok!  
He tried to get his reactor!  
He touched the _fucking reactor in his chest_!

A movement in the corner of the room caught the inventor's attention; it was one of the turrets under Jarvis' control that was usually hidden in the ceiling.

"J?" he asked and the ceiling promptly answered,  
"He didn't touch the reactor, Sir. Though I thought it a good precaution if he did."

"He didn't- ?"

"No sir."

Tony let out a deep breath and looked back to Loki, who was now sitting on the bed and stared blankly on the floor, still worrying his lip.

So he sat down next to him, a few inches between them just in case the god could still give him frostbite and thought what he could possibly say or do that wouldn't undermine his anger with the god and wouldn't be too harsh of an attack on Loki, who had walked around too exposed for Tony's taste.  
Maybe it was trust and he wasn't going to use and betray that, maybe it was weakness and using that would b-

"So now even my dreams turn into nightmares." he heard the god murmur, almost too low for Tony's ears. But only almost.

"What do you mean with dreams?" the genius asked.  
It took Tony a moment to realise that, if Loki meant that literal, if Loki actually thought these were dreams then that would explain his passiveness, it would explain why he walked around with all his defenses down, since, hey it's a dream what's the worst that could happen and -  
Oh. _Fuck._ How fucked up was that?!  
Loki though looked up and blinked at him a bit inane.

"You think this is a dream." Tony answered for him, and the god tilted his head.

"What else would it be?"

"Reality?"

"Hardly."

"What makes it so impossible?"

"You."

_Me._  
Tony stood up from the bed, because seriously? He couldn't just sit through this!  
So while he started pacing he asked,  
"Why me? Go on, tell me. If I'm a dream I want to know how and why."

The god looked at him oddly, as if _seeing_ him for the first time.  
"I am here, when I am strapped down on a table, isn't that proof enough?"

"Nope. Daddy dearest had you Magic-Express delivered to me, as 'compensation' for your crimes against me and my kind."

"And you _took me_ without so much as a second thought?"

"You got tortured, of course I took you!"

"I attacked your realm, I threatened your empire and I tried to kill you! You wouldn't care!"

"To bad that I _know_ it wasn't you. Had to endure hours with SHIELD's shrinks for that one by the way." then the inventor stopped his pacing to stand directly in front of Loki.  
"And of course I care!"

The god though just seemed to bristle. "You wouldn't!"

"Why not?!"

Suddenly Loki sprang off the bed, his face only inches from Tony and shouted loud and desperate, completely failing to represent the aggression the god probably had aimed for:  
"BECAUSE I AM A MONSTER!"

For just a moment there was silence while Tony processed how he'd go on about this.  
There obviously was too much history and background knowledge for him to guess, but he chalked the first outburst of emotion from the god down as a success.  
It was sort of a progress, right?  
Tony took a deep breath and thought for a moment.  
He needed some information.  
He needed to know what was up with that blue skin, and why Loki hated it so.  
But if he was Loki then he wouldn't answer questions, tough if it was an exchange of information it might work...  
Even if Tony hated the idea of exposing himself in any way to anyone (who wasn't J, since the AI knew everything about him anyway).

Tony took a deep breath.  
Not an actual one, more a mental one and then said into the silence and into that brittle mask the god was wearing:  
"So am I."

Loki looked stunned for a long moment, though before he could say anything Tony continued with the mock of a bow.  
"The Merchant of Death, at your service."

"The Merchant of...?"

"I used to make weapons. Brilliant weapons. You know, the ones you only have to fire once. I built the best and the best I built, built better. They got into the wrong hands and now there are millions dead because I didn't care."  
Wow, how Tony hated saying this, but if he was right then it'd work, "I am the Merchant of Death. What are you?"

During his 'speech' Loki had taken a step back, staring at Tony as if he saw _him_ for the first time, as if it was very hard to believe Tony to be someone who had, how had Loki called it?  
'Red in his ledger'. Though less of the inky, and more of the bloody sort.  
But he could see right in front of him, plainly on the god's face calculations being rerun and the acceptance of the solution that, no the inventor hadn't lied.

"I am a Frost Giant." Loki then said quietly, slowly stepping back as if he expected Tony to lash out.  
Tony though of course didn't. The first obvious question he automatically wanted to say was: Is that why you're blue?  
But that would be a rather bad thing to say, too direct, too close, so instead he just said the next best thing, "I have no idea what that is."

Loki looked perplex for a moment and then, completely unexpectedly he laughed.

The god laughed, almost hiccupped until tears streamed down his face and dropped back onto the bed, confusing Tony to no end.  
Why was he laughing?!  
He didn't say anything funny, but on the other hand, laughing was good, right?  
At least it didn't sound hysterical, but rather genuine. Maybe even relieved.  
He knelt down onto the bed anyway, grabbing Loki's shoulders trying to get his attention.

Tony did get it, in a way.  
When he grabbed the god's shoulders Loki turned to him and pressed his face into Tony's neck and shoulder.  
After a while the laughter died down, but the god still trembled

Again and again he heard Loki murmur, "You're real. _You're real_!" between the sobs that now shook him and-  
Oh Hell, the god was crying on him.  
Seriously though, this was what had snapped Loki out of the 'dream'?!  
Wow. Easier than he thought.

So every time Tony heard those words „You're real." murmured into his wet neck, he'd softly, quietly answer into the god's ear.  
"I'm real. You're here. You're awake." and Loki would reply with his hands grabbing Tony a bit tighter, as if the inventor might flee.  
He of course didn't and he wouldn't.  
Instead he wrapped his arms around the god, holding him and waiting till Loki was able to regain his composure.

Though instead of recollecting himself Loki fell asleep in Tony's arms, practically on his lap completely wrung out and lax, huffing cold air at the inventors neck and rubbing a horn against Tony's ear and cheekbone.  
But that was just as good for the inventor, as long as the god wasn't crying anymore it was fine because, well, he wasn't good with people crying, even less with them crying on him. Seriously.

Instead he stayed awake for a while, discussing his schedule for the next week with Jarvis and going through his presentations again.

Tony didn't notice when he drifted off into sleep, sinking onto his bed with Loki snug against his side, legs tangled with a god who was softly snoring against his chest.


	6. I'd rather you didn't

Loki woke up slowly to quiet, familiar voices talking.  
It was cool, there was smooth fabric brushing his skin and something soft and slightly warm underneath him.  
He let himself drift back to awareness slowly, not particularly caring when memories of the night before welled up, reminding him that this was real.  
This was _real_, so he pressed his face a bit firmer into his pillow, trying to stay under for a bit longer just because he could.

"Sir, I have to insist. You need to shave and shower. The presentation of the new Braille tablet cannot be rescheduled again."  
The pillow under him groaned and- oh.  
_Oh._  
Not a pillow after all then.  
"Yes, yes, I'm going." Stark grumbled, carefully wriggling out from under Loki and replacing his, what Loki assumed to be a shoulder with a pillow under the gods head.

Now fully awake, but not moving he listened to the rustling of clothes and the sound of a door clicking only a few meters away from him, man and machine still discussing some sort presentation and what seemed to be today's schedule until the words got drowned by the sound of running water.  
He didn't want to move, not yet so instead he mentally went over the past few days he could remember.

And he promptly regretted it.  
By the nine, he had behaved like a scared child, jumping at every movement, hating to be alone and hating the darkness, crawling _into Starks bed_ instead.  
Not just once, but repeatedly!

Surprisingly though, Stark had taken everything in strides.  
He had been patient, kind and calm without mocking no matter what occurred, and even washed and combed the god's hair every day.

Loki hadn't dared to touch it.  
He had been afraid to feel those horns he knew were there (Anthony had changed the wrapping of one numerous times) and he still was, that much he could admit to himself.  
Even though he could feel them, he could feel that one was pressed sideways into the pillow he didn't want to accept it.  
He didn't want the ultimate proof that he was indeed what he was.  
Another proof was that the god felt cool, colder than could have possibly been comfortable for a human and then brushing one of his arms against the mattress it scratched at the oversensitive lines that covered his body.  
And Loki _hated_ it.

So he reached inside himself, feeling not for the worship, but for his-

His magic.

His magic was still in shackles and this was when the god noticed the bracelets and swore under his breath.  
Anthony hadn't taken them off.  
The mortal had dared!

In an instant Loki was sitting upright, pressing a hand to his chest, reaching again but he couldn't touch it, just out of his reach.

"Good morning Bambi." he heard Anthony greet him, as the man came out from the bathroom stark naked, only to wander into another chamber that held his garments.

The combination of casual nakedness, which he was used to from Thor but had not expected from the mortal, the nickname and a god forsaken _machine_ lodged in the middle of the man's _chest_, glowing like the nebula of a dying star had stunned him into stillness for some long moments, though he caught himself quickly and jumped from the bed.

"How dare you bind my magic, Stark!" Loki called after him, feeling frost rise with the anger and (admittedly) panic, though before he reached the chamber Anthony came back out about to knot his tie and a suit jacked clamped under one arm.  
"I've done nothing, ok? You got delivered with these bracelets, they keep your magic in check and I couldn't find a way to get them off yet. Look-"

"Sir, you've got one minute."

"Shit. Ok, Loki, look, ask Jarvis ok, he knows as much as I do. Get some breakfast, read a book, I don't care. Jarvis can give you anything you need. Gotta run. I'll be back around lunch, bye."

With those words Stark ran past him, patting a hand on Loki's shoulder, hissing at the cold and was out of the room.  
Just before the man could jump into the elevator Loki found himself in pursuit, hissing curses at Stark but then he was gone behind closing doors.

"I'd rather you didn't talk to Sir like this." the same voice Anthony had talked to said from around him, Jarvis was it?  
Odd name.  
But then he remembered that when he, _no_, Thanos puppet had first tried to kill Anthony the man had called out that name.  
And later, after Loki had received his beating of the beast 'Jarvis' had taken off the armour and shielded Stark from the other Avengers.  
Where were those anyway? Loki had expected to see them sooner then later once he was on Midgard.

"And what would you intend to do if I don't follow?" Loki asked curiously, wondering what it could do without Starks instructions.

"The current temperature of the living area is thirteen degree Celsius." it's smooth voice stated, seemingly out of context but Loki understood and he shuddered at the thought.  
Humans usually preferred higher temperatures, he knew that.  
Therefore it was this low for him to be comfortable but just as long as Jarvis willed it so.

Though only a moment later Jarvis continued, light and calm as if the thread has never been spoken.  
"I have no exact designation regarding your name aside from 'Loki'. Might you add a surname to it?"

"It is Odi-"  
Quickly he bit his tongue to still it, but thankfully the machine didn't comment, because no, it wasn't.  
He was not a son of Odin anymore and he would never be again.

Loki stared at his hand, pointedly ignoring the bracelet that bound his magic and found that the blue skin and the markings still looked wrong to him. Just so utterly wrong as they probably would for a rather long time but he was already wearing the skin, so he might as well carry the name as well for there was no use denying it anyway. Right?  
"Laufeyson." he said, "It is Laufeyson."

"Very well Mister Laufeyson. Would you care for breakfast and then perhaps share what you know about the current situation?"

"I would."

So he did. Breakfast consisted of, a 'sandwich', some boiled eggs and fruit, then began the exchange of information with Jarvis, who was the first to speak.

"Three months after Mister Odinson has taken you for judgement, four Asgardians appeared with you, Mister Laufeyson, on the roof of Stark Tower.  
You were given to, if I may quote, 'Lord Stark' as compensation for your crimes against Earth, also referred to as Midgard and it was stated that Sir may fare with you as he wishes, for as long as he sees fit.  
Despite the fact that you were unconscious, in horrendous physical and psychological condition, it was also stated that you must not die. You arrival was on Sunday eight days ago, and the only ones aware of your sentence to earth are the four guards, the Allfather, Sir, the bots and myself."

During the constructs speech Loki had relocated himself onto the great leather sofa which provided sight onto the rainy skyline of the city.  
His body might not ache but his limbs exhausted quickly what he supposed was normal considering the last three months ( Millennia, it had been millennia, really.)  
"Who are 'The Bots' you mentioned?" Loki asked, though Jarvis only answered that he would eventually meet them at a later time, "Then I suppose it is my turn now to tell what I know?"

"It is." was the voices simple answer.

Loki sat up straighter in his seat, recalling Odin's voice for accuracy's sake and willing himself not to stutter over the answer as his breath hitched when he spoke.  
"The Allfather took from me his name, my title, my right to enter Asgard and my Aesir skin. I was sentenced to be held in the dungeons and be, be _reprimanded_ for my errors, and given to Midgard afterwards. It was my brother's idea to have me handed to Stark and I suppose I'll have to thank him for it. That, I am afraid, is all I can tell you about our current predicament."

"All you can tell, or all you know, Mister Laufeyson?"

Loki couldn't keep himself from grinning, so it knew that people twisted their words, but then, it served Stark and he was sure that spirit, machine or not the inventor would have bored of it quickly if it wasn't sharp.

"It is all I know, Jarvis."

The answer was only met with a clipped, "Very well." and then he was left alone (not truly alone, he knew that much) in silence, gazing at the rather impressive city that the humans had created for themselves.

Hundreds and thousands of buildings made from rock and steel and glass, sheltering countless numbers of those small individuals from the miserable weather and giving them a home or work.  
He could see the streets and shops and cars, humans hurrying where ever they had to be with round contraptions over their heads, shielding themselves from the water he assumed.

After a while he slid down onto the sofa, curling up into a ball and cursing his horns when one bumped into the lean.  
Before he fell into a light sleep, a memory of his mother Frigga welled up, and how the rain would always fall around her like a veil without ever touching her. Never wetting her beautiful dresses and elegant scarves, but eventually he drifted off.  
Not even noticing the lights around him dim and eventually go out for his comfort, or the temperature dropping a few degrees more.

* * *

A thank you to all readers and everyone who comments!

I hope you all enjoy Chaos of Worship and will continue to do so!

Regarding Pepper and SHIELD, no I haven't written them off just like that, they'll get their parts later. Neither will Odin get away unscratched, the Armor unused or Jarvis badassery unwritten.

Currently were looking at 15 chapter, but if I keep stretching it like I am it'll be more.

There's a tumblr tag for this story: #bid's chaos of worship

See you next chapter!


	7. About Special Treatment

Had this one done and posted on AO3 new years day, but literally had no time to post it here, so you're a day late. Sorry!

* * *

Tony loved doing presentations.  
Well, at least he loved doing presentations of new tech he loved, therefore the Braille Tablet was a marvel.

The audience seemed to think so too, especially the blind half of it, every single one of them equipped with a prototype.  
The whole gig took three hours, afterwards there was a buffet for everyone, he answered questions for the press, received thanks and praise from his guests, made appointments with some sponsors and investors which ever vigilant Jarvis promptly added to his schedule.

One blind woman, Miss Morgan her name tag said, even was in tears, hugged him and declared him her personal hero, not because he was Iron Man but because of _this_, not letting down the handicapped people.

An hour later all prototypes got recollected and thirty minutes after that the tower was empty again, except for the clean-up crew.  
He should invent some robots to do that.

Yeah, some days Tony loved being the boss of his company.

Then Jarvis reminded him of the Board meeting in on twenty minutes and he remembered why he hated it most days.

"Didn't I promise our resident smurf I'd be there for lunch?" Tony asked as he scrolled through the Twitter tag of Stark Industries' prototypes and promotions, everyone was already head over heels for it.

"Mister Laufeyson is currently asleep Sir, and should remain so. A Frost Giant seems to heal quickest when in deep sleep."

"Wait, isn't he an Odinson? And do you have the video ready for the SI site?"

"Maybe you should read the transcript of our conversation while your driver, who is _still_ waiting at the entrance, get's you to your meeting. The video will take another twenty minutes, I am afraid."

"Yes, yes on my way. So he did talk to you? Man I'm good."  
Barely looking up from his StarkPhone, really the intro of the tablet was already going global trough the social media even though this had been a US only event, he made his way to the main entrance and his driver, dropping into the backseat of the white Jaguar.

"He did, as you predicted, Sir."

"Tony Stark, the Loki whisperer. You are getting slower though."

"I am sorry you noticed Sir. The firewall takes up almost a quarter of my space, but since you left a generous buffer since my last memory extension I believed I could work around it."

"Shit I knew I forgot something but I didn't expect it too take that much space. Why didn't you tell me earlier J?!" Tony sat in the black leather seat ramrod straight.  
What was Jarvis thinking, keeping information like that away, what if someone tried to hack them again and there wasn't enough space for Jarvis _and_ the firewall to work properly?

"I figured you had already enough-"

"During an attack the firewall can expand as it works and take up even more space, if it's there. You should know that. I need you."

"I am sorry Sir. I will be more efficient."

Tony felt like throwing his fucking phone (and earpiece) out of the window. Fucking Hell.  
"This isn't about you efficiency, Jarvis." he hissed, "This is about your fucking safety! I don't want you _hurt_ ok? I don't want anyone to be able to hurt you, hell to touch you even. I need you, and I don't mean because I can't run the company alone, but because- "  
Tony swallowed hard and then took a deep breath, "But because if I don't have you, there's no one. Ok? You're the last person I have, J. So for god's sake activate procedure EXT nine-zero- four-seven-seven-one-zero."

For a long moment there was silence before he had Jarvis' voice in his ear again, warm and soft telling him that he wasn't leaving, that he was grateful that Tony cared so much about him and that he too, didn't have anyone besides his maker.

The meeting just went on and on and on, addressing everything that had been left hanging during Tony's "really bad cold" last week, which he did still act up a bit just in case someone though he didn't have one, but no one seemed suspicious.

It was almost ten at night when Tony more or less stumbled out of the elevator, throwing his suit jacked to the floor with one hand, tearing off his tie with the other and kicking his shoes against the next wall.

Like he did every night he blindly dragged himself into the living area and to his gorgeous lovely leather sofa which he could drop into any second and - it was occupied.  
Of course it was, anything to make Anthony E. Stark miserable.

"What are you staring at, man of Iron." Loki's voice echoed through the fog of Tony's mind not really making sense for a few long moments.  
Man he was knackered.

"You are on my sofa." but now that he thought of it and saw the piercing red eyes really focus on him for once his brain rapidly sobered up, so maybe napping wasn't an option just yet.

Instead he shoved Loki's legs out of the way, earning himself a deadly glare and dropped down onto it with his feet next to the naked blue ones, back against his armrest and yeah the leather was really fucking cold.  
And it was glorious.  
It was also when he realised that he could actually see his breath a bit.

"Jarvis what the hell is the room temperature in here?"

"Fifty five degree Sir. Should I warm it up?"

"No man, make it default this is awesome. I don't feel like a furnace for once." Because no, he didn't and the meeting room had been way too hot for his taste anyway, making him sweat and his chest overheat.

"Very well Sir. It is set as the new default."

"Mortals aren't meant to live at these temperatures." he heard the god next to him say, it didn't seem like he was talking to Tony directly, but hell since when did he care.

"We're also not meant to have a metal casing in their chest that holds an Arc reactor which's centre is a few hundred degree hot." because yeah he couldn't fit a cooling system in there, though he did manage to insulate it really good, but the metal was still hotter than his body.  
Thankfully just not hot enough to burn (or cook) him from the inside.  
The strain on his organs wasn't nice but survivable and that it heated up his blood and he ran around with something like a constant fewer wasn't all too likable either, but what you don't do to keep your heart from becoming minced meat.

"Or do you think just anyone can hold their body temperature when cuddling with a giant blue popsicle for a few hours?"  
Loki just sneered at the comment but didn't grace them with an answer, though he did stare at Tony's chest as if he tried to see through the shirt.

"In fact," Jarvis interfered, "Sir's temperature was at a healthy level for the first time in years."

Loki looked surprised, positively surprised actually and a bit dubious, staring at Tony openly, "You truly have no issue with me being a Jotun, do you?"

"As I said, Lokes, I don't even know what that is. Care to explain?"

"Might as well. Frost Giants are from the realm of Jotunheim, a planet covered in snow and ice. They have been the mortal enemies of Asgard since before I was born, waging war, destruction and bloodshed. They are the monsters of the nine realms. No one in their right mind would ever host one." with those words Loki turned away from the inventor, staring at the window again but pulling a face when he heard Tony chuckle.

"No one has ever called me sane. Besides, you don't seem very monstrous to me."

He could see how Loki froze, could feel the temperature close to his (and therefore Loki's) feet drop.  
Then the god hissed through clenched teeth,  
"I have _horns_, Stark."

"And if you had antlers I wouldn't care. It's only one and a half horns by the way. Judging by your hair you didn't even get close to them."

There was silence for a few minutes, but tired or not Tony could swear that he saw the gods face darken a bit.  
_Blushing!_ Huh, interesting.

Technically he didn't feel like moving, not at all, but staring at the tangled hair he just had to think of what a hassle it would be to get it unknotted tomorrow if he doesn't do it today.  
So, with a sigh he rolled off the sofa onto his feet, grabbed the comb from the bar and a chair, dragging it back to the god. Who was still sitting sideways on the sofa, craning his neck to glare at him.

"What do you think you are doing, Stark?"

"I'm going to brush your hair because it's just going to be worse tomorrow if I leave it or do you want to do it yourself? Break the other horn while you're at it?" yeah, it was underhanded tactics to mention the horns, but it worked, since the god turned his face away, presenting the back of his head and the mob of curls.  
Tony knew that Loki would think it to be humiliating, but he also knew that Loki got really calm and relaxed when he did it.

So he started with what was almost muscle memory now, first untangling the worst parts of the strands with his fingers. Careful not to pull it while holing the comb between his teeth.  
"I am hardly delicate, Stark." he heard him mumble, bit less poison than Loki probably had aimed for.  
"Doesn mean I haf to hurt you, does it?" Tony answered through his teeth, effectively shutting the god up. He wondered when it was the last time someone had brushed his hair (probably when he was a kid), or simply done something nice for him.  
Not that it was any of his business.

Now carefully combing through the black hair bit by bit Tony pressed his fingers against the gods scalp so it wouldn't pull, which was when he noticed Loki's shoulders sagging and the god's head leaning backwards into Tony's grip and have him hold the weight.  
Just as it had been their usual routine every morning and evening while the god hadn't been really there.

This was...nice.  
Nice in a way that seemed to exchange the marrow in Tony's bones for comfortingly cool water and clearing his head from unnecessary clutter.  
So he continued, carefully pulling the hair around the horns, pointedly not clacking with the comb against them and for once let things be quiet for almost fifteen minutes.

"I," Loki suddenly broke the silence, slowly as if he wasn't sure if he liked the taste of the words, but not taking his weight off Tony's hand, or opening his eyes, "Your worship. It is appreciated, Anthony. Thank you."

For a moment Tony almost dropped Loki's head (and wow that totally didn't sound weird at all, only about as weird as it felt whenever he dropped the phone when talking to Jarvis) but he held still, completely still.  
"Yeah, well, I do have a few questions about that. Is that pain thing normal?" he asked when he ran his fingers through the hair, a last time to check for any other knots.

"Pain?" Loki asked, eyes open and sitting up, turning around to face Tony, once the man had let go of his hair.

"Yeah. I can get your pain, and I can take it. You didn't notice? It's not like I can give you painkillers, they might poison you or something."

Suddenly Loki's face turned light blue, almost white and then he stammered,  
"Anthony, are you trying to say- are you saying that when I hid from the torture _you_ received the pain?!"

From one moment to another, before Tony could even give an answer he had a mass of Loki up close and right in his personal bubble with no chance to even draw back as the god almost frantically prodded his ribs, touched the back of Tony's neck and then investigated the mortal's hands intently.

"You bear no marks." he then concluded, and the inventor quickly pulled his hands back.

"Yeah, well I could have told you that. It's just pain, started a few days after you went to Asgard. Don't need to tell me what happened there, I pretty much get the picture. What I want to know is how you sent the pain to me and how I can pull it away from you. Did you do some crazy spell while you were still magiced up, or is that the worship thing too?"

For a moment Loki looked offended, but thankfully it changed quickly to curiosity and, was that wonder?  
"I casted no spell on you, I swear it. During my imprisonment I tried to escape the torture by distracting my mind with the feeling of worship. It happened by accident that I pulled it to the forefront and found out that it deflects the pain. So of course I used that quite... liberally."

For a moment Loki fixated him with his eyes, the expression on his face openly remorseful and continued, "Though I swear I did not know that it took effect on you. I would not wish it on my worst enemy and certainly not on the worshipper of chaos, I _swear_."

They studied each other for almost a minute. Tony with his arms resting on the chairs back lean, legs spread left and right from it. Loki half sitting, more leaning on his elbow on top of the armrest.

"Ok," the inventor answered, "ok. So, is this normal? That I get all chilled whenever we're… close and you…"

"That I have black quicksilver in my marrow? As much as it pains me to say I wouldn't know. You are- I've never before had a worshipper of chaos, much less myself. This is as foreign to me as it is to you."

"And you guys don't talk about this stuff? Have some records in the royal library of awesome? You _do_ have a library, right?"

As Tony asked that the god's face practically began to beam,  
"Of course we have a library! It's size alone could rival your tower and it's knowledge knows no bounds!" but then his face fell a bit and he started to frown,  
"Except for worship. I have searched for years in it's depths for answers as for why I had no worshippers, when Thor seemed to gather them in the dozen a day, but never found a single word about it. Even Od- Even the Allfather would not give me answers."

Abruptly but with a smirk Loki sat up, ramrod straight, with slightly sagging shoulders as it he had something incredibly heavy on them, one arm outstretched holding an imaginary sceptre or some staff and imitated a deeper voice.  
Tony had no doubt that this was 'Odin' and grinned.

"Hear Loki," he said, "Chaos is not a thing that is easily admired. Be patient. Soon you will understand. One day you will learn to control it and use it for good, then-"

'Odin's' speech stopped abruptly when Loki heard the inventor laugh and stopping only made the man allow himself to laugh louder.

It took Tony a minute to realise that Loki wasn't as amused, instead he had slouched back against the armrest looking rather blank and vaguely hurt, but before the god could say anything he answered the unasked question of _What the hell is so funny?_ while pouring himself (Loki had waved it off, he did have some manners, yes?) a quick drink at the bar and dropping back onto the sofa, mirroring Loki's position.  
Back against the armrest, feet pointing at the god.

"Did he seriously say that? I mean,_control_ chaos? Use chaos? Is he for real?!"

A careful smile spread over Loki's face, "Yes, well what seems logical to you was a foreign concept to Odin as it seems and I was young and not entirely fixed on what chaos meant myself so I tried, but failed anyway. At some point I simply accepted that I would never gain any followers and didn't even realise I had you, until-"  
Loki's breath hitched and unconsciously pulled his legs closer to himself.  
"Until I fell into the Void and the worship flickered out."

"What happened?" Tony asked quietly, not sure if he wanted to know but hell, he had to at least ask, right?  
But Loki just looked up to him; the same, tentatively clueless face Tony wore himself.

"I hoped you could tell me, I felt- it was rather distressing. That small feeling of worship winked out and after, well, I don't know how long to was, it could have been moments or years, it came back all at once burning like wildfire in Muspelheim."

"It burnt you?!"

"_No!_ No not that time. Can you tell me what happened?"

Not that time. Not that time? When could- oh. _Oh._

"It did burn you when you were in prison, didn't it? About a month ago? And you didn't use the worship against the pain for a week. Am I right?"

The god's nod was all Tony needed to know to guess what the first fallout had been.

"In the Void. When you lost it in the Void I was dead. In Afghanistan, a cave. This-" Tony tapped against his chest, against the casing of the reactor, "got shoved into my chest there to keep me alive but my heart stopped for a while during the operation. Just three and a half minutes, but yeah. Afterwards I got special treatment and-"

Tony stopped as he saw Loki's questioning look and took a deep breath, closing his eyes to focus for a moment.  
He never had talked to anyone about Afghanistan, why was he telling _Loki_ of all people?!

He didn't want to think of it. H  
e didn't want to think about drowning again and again in dirty water and piss.  
About the desert heat,  
the heat of the improvised forge  
or the coal that was about to be shoved into Yinsen's -

Something cold touched Tony's ankle and made him flinch hard out of the memory, eyes flying open and stared at Loki who pointedly looked out of the rain splattered window at the glowing city.  
Acting as if he didn't notice him just having a flashback but the cold of the gods foot pressed against Tony's ankle (casual as if it had been there the whole time) made for a great focus point to pull himself out of it.  
Cold.  
Cold was good.  
Cold was not a fucking desert.

"Special treatment." Loki echoed with barely hidden distaste, "I'm assuming that..."

"Yeah." Tony answered, "Yeah. Not as bad as you, they still needed me to build them the missile. Never did of course, fucking idiots. I built the suit and blew them all to hell."

Now Loki looked back at him, "The Iron Man? You built it in a cave, under those conditions?" and Tony's smirk seemed answer enough since the god mirrored it straight back.

"Impressive."

"Yeah, well that's me."

A bare moment of shared silence an ear splitting thunder cracked through the sky and Loki looked up at the ceiling with a familiar expression.

"I guess you are not overly fond of what follows?" Tony echoed Loki's words, though the god smiled at him rather warmly.

"Fonder than I used to be."


	8. Thor

Hi! Sorry for the delay, butt he chapter just wouldn't come down the way it was supposed to.

This story will contain up to, or even more then 20 chapters.

The amazing Kate volunteered as Beta tribute!

* * *

Thor, who flew through a window Jarvis had thankfully opened in the last moment, had been openly staring at Loki from the moment he entered.

The god looked tired and beaten, but the first things Thor did was to greet and then carefully brush snow and ice from the feather cloak he had worn.  
Mother's falcon cloak to be exact.  
Where the frost came from he could only guess, considering that it was summer in New York.

Loki himself stood a few meters away from his not-brother, shoulder to shoulder with Stark, their backs to the stairs that led to the man's workshop and undoubtedly his armors as well.

He wasn't afraid of Thor.

Of course Loki wasn't, but before Thor's arrival Anthony had started asking what his motives could be, and the possibility of the Allfather sending his real son to collect Loki again, made the god shudder.

He won't go back.  
He will never go back, and if it meant he'd have to spend the  
rest of his days bound to Stark and therefore Midgard, so be it.  
But he will never, ever again set foot onto Asgard or into its king's reach.

"So, Thor what brings you here? In the mood for a vacation? You _look_ like you could need it." Anthony asked with a playful smile on his face that looked disturbingly genuine, but so it had seemed during their own first meeting.

"My brother." Thor answered, stepping closer with the cloak carefully in his arms. "Loki, what has been done to you? Why are you wearing the appearance of a Jotun? Is this Odin's work as well?"  
Thor sounded unusually weary, instead of his normal obnoxious loud boasting and it took Loki a moment to realise why.  
Or at least the most probable reason.

His brother wasn't carrying Mjölnir.  
Why wasn't his brother carrying Mjölnir?!  
What happened that could _possibly_ separate Thor and the hammer that would have grown onto that oaf's hip if he wouldn't carry it in his hand most times?!

This was- this was worrying. Actually more worrying than the sudden and unannounced appearance, really.  
Stark seemed to have noticed it too, the man truly was more perceptive than he makes people believe.

Loki threw Thor a sharp grin none the less, "Did you not say that the Allfather informed you of my true origins? Than I am the son of Laufey and everything was a lie?"

Thor shook his head, dragging a hand over his face while he let himself drop into the armchair, opposite the sofa they had originally rested on.  
Again a proof of exhaustion that Thor had never shown before, not even after the worst or longest battles.  
"Then he lied again. He said that he found you abandoned after the war and took you in, but spoke of you as Aesir. It wasn't entirely sound in hindsight, a rather brittle omission but _then_ I was blind."

Loki scoffed and he paced behind the sofa, too restless to sit just now, unlike Anthony.  
Though the man had been working all day while he himself just slept.  
Then there had been the ..._issue_ in the night and he remembered that the two days before he'd had Anthony's bed for himself.

Though the man was still very much alert even if quieter than expected. Attaboy Stark.  
"Have you suddenly been gifted with sight, brother dear?"

And again Thor shook his head.  
"The trial was based on unproven information as it has never been done before. The court was not consulted and when I tried to visit you at your officially assigned prison cell you weren't there."  
Thor shifted on the armchair running his hands over the feathers, throwing Loki a look of guilt.  
"For a moment I believed you had escaped, but there was no evidence of you ever being in it. The guard told me that you were kept in the lower dungeons and I tried to find you, I _swear_ I did Loki!  
I barely passed the second gate when Odin appeared and took Mjolnir from me for I was '_meddling with things beyond my capacity of understanding_'.  
The second time I was just outside your door and he banned me, thankfully not as a mortal, to Jotunheim. Supposedly until your sentence was over, but mother found me a few hours ago and told me where you were, lending me her feather cloak and now here I am."

Loki was still, very still, staring at his brother only to drop into the sofa cushions.  
Not sofa cushions as he found out when the inventor yelped and tried to jump up from where he sprawled.  
The god though decided to stay just where he was, letting the warmth of Anthony's socked feet under his thigh ground him.

"How long where you on Jotunheim?"

"For almost three months. Loki, you need to know that I was wrong about the Jotnar."  
There was urgency in his voice and a shine in his eyes.  
Waving away Loki's scoff.  
"It has nothing to do with your heritage, brother. If it wasn't for them I would not be alive now. Please hear me out."

Suddenly Stark sat up, again trying to pull his feet from under Loki.  
"Sorry to interrupt your heart to heart, but I've got a video conference to run with the London branch in five minutes, and I need coffee. Loads of coffy- let my feet go Blitzen!"

He didn't.  
Instead the god kept his hand clamped around Anthony's ankle, just because he could of course, not because he wasn't ready to face alone whatever his brother had to say.  
Not at all.

Though why would Anthony want to leave?  
Shouldn't an alien race interest him as a scientist?  
Or perhaps he didn't care, for he had his own specimen to examine.  
Yes, that must be it.  
It would also explain why Stark pretended to care.

The thought tasted bitter on his tongue, but it was quite obvious in hindsight.  
"Stark, it is almost three in the morning, how could you possibly have a conference. If this bores you this much then just leave, no need for excuses."

The man looked at him for a moment, and suddenly there was a pull in his bones, a flicker of pain in his head and the arm that had been broken.  
The worship calling for his attention.

"Timezones, Lokes. Ever heard of those? It's ten to eight in London and I'll have to be online god knows how long. And I think they'd rather talk without two norse gods in the background."

No Loki hadn't heard of the zones of time before, but he couldn't see a a lie on the man, or feel unease in the worship.  
Wondered if he even could if it was there.

Suddenly Loki realised, and wondered how he could have forgotten about it.  
Anthony's worship.  
Even if he was interested in examining Loki, he was still the god Anthony had chose to worship. He was the one to wield the element Stark adored.  
And if Loki was honest with himself, the thought was reassuring.

So he slowly let go of the ankle, giving Stark the freedom to stand up.

"Hey Thor, how about we reschedule our little chat for the morning, ok? Lokes here was up all day catching up on earth-tech, and he's still recovering so he needs his beauty sleep. And you look like you could need it too. Go ahead, take a guest room and a shower and I'll have a big breakfast waiting tomorrow. Sound good?" Anthony said, stretching out a hand as if to seal a pact, or help Thor up.

For a long moment Thor looked at Loki and the trickster felt that he should probably give his host a medal for perceptiveness.  
He really should stop underestimating him at least, something easily done with the disarming smiles and seemingly carefree personality.  
"We would talk in the morrow then, is that acceptable, brother?"

"It is. Even though I am not your brother and you know it well, Thor."

"I grew up with you as my brother so you will always be my brother, Loki.  
It does not matter to me what name or skin you wear." Thor answered, grabbing the hand Stark held out to him with thanks starting to pull himself up.

Loki had to suppress his laughter and hide the resulting smirk behind a hand when he saw Anthony entirely misjudge Thor's weight, almost faceplanting into the armchair himself, though all but a moment later the two were in the hallway on their way to the guest rooms.

He wondered if he still could use Stark's bed without seeming childish, but then decided that he didn't care what Anthony might think.

After all, the room was the coldest, the mattress was the softest, the duvets the fluffiest and the bed the biggest in the penthouse.  
Besides, the man seemed convinced that this conference would take a long time.

Loki looked outside the windows, barely able to make anything out between the darkness and the smudges of light on the glass, distorted by the rain that kept pouring down.


End file.
